


Did You Hear That?

by Em_Jaye



Series: Good Madness [13]
Category: Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bakery, Basements are scary, F/M, Ghost Stories, Halloween, fluff and nonsense
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-20
Updated: 2018-10-20
Packaged: 2019-08-04 22:44:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16355675
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Em_Jaye/pseuds/Em_Jaye
Summary: "May your coming year be filled with magic and dreams and good madness"-Neil GaimanAlmost Halloween





	Did You Hear That?

**Author's Note:**

> Just some silliness based off of conversations I used to have at my own, mildly haunted bakery.

“Three separate, but equally important questions,” Alysha began as she kicked the basement door behind her.

Darcy looked up from the jack-o-lantern tarts she was nearly finished assembling. “Hit me,” she said before she could wonder if she’d regret it.

“First,” Alysha dropped the large cardboard box of paper coffee cups on the counter. “On a scale of one to ten, how haunted would you say this place is?”

Darcy crimped the edge of the final mini pie and smiled. “One, if at all,” she promised.

“How can you be so sure? Because if it’s _not_ haunted, then explain all those sounds you can hear in the basement,” she shot her green eyes back toward the door she’d just closed.

Darcy frowned. “Is that the second question? And also the third?”

Alysha shook her head. “These are sub-questions,” she said plainly. “Question number two has nothing to do with our obvious ghost problem. And question number three is me asking if we’re staying open late again on Halloween for trick-or-treaters.”

“Oh, uh, yes,” she said with a decisive nod. “But not full service—just trick-or-treating, like we did last year. Also, we do _not_ have an obvious ghost problem,” Darcy insisted.

“Yes, we do!” Jane called from the front of the shop.

“What?” Darcy stood up in a full recoil and popped her head around the corner where Jane stood on the bakery case, rewiring one of her light fixtures, dangerously close to knocking over the display Megan had created with pie pumpkins and dried flowers earlier in the week. “What are you talking about?” She dropped her arm and sighed. “And I thought you were just swapping bulbs.”

“I am,” her cousin assured her. “But this was done wrong,” she motioned to the exposed wiring. “If I put the new bulb in as is, it’s going to overload.” She glanced over the tops of her glasses. “And you _do_ have a ghost problem.”

Darcy laughed. “Some fucking scientist, Jane,” she said with a roll of her eyes. “You’re really going against your brand, you know.”

“Look,” Jane’s attention returned to the wires in front of her face. “Most science says that if you can see it and touch it, then it’s real. But considering I spent my entire life looking through a telescope at things that are very real that I can’t _ever_ touch—I happen to believe that seeing is good enough. And I’m not claiming to be some kind of medium, but that I _saw_ something in that basement,” she insisted lightly. “It used to scare the shit out of both of us when we were little.”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed. “When we were eight.”

“What did you see?” Alysha broke in, eyes wide. She hopped up on the counter opposite the case and swung her legs back and forth. “How old were you?”

Jane’s expression twisted in recollection. “I think I was eleven,” she said, ignoring Darcy’s sigh. “And Darcy saw it too,” she added. “She just had to convince herself she didn’t because otherwise she wouldn’t want to work here every day.”

“Darcy, if you’ve been hiding legitimate ghost stories from me all these years, I’ll never forgive you,” Alysha stated, sounding genuinely hurt.

“It’s _not_ a legitimate ghost story,” Darcy assured her. “Uncle Reese—”

“My dad,” Jane added with a small wire-cutter clenched between her teeth.

“Jane’s dad,” Darcy repeated. “Didn’t want us playing in the basement because it was damp and unfinished and they couldn’t hear us up here if something happened, so he made up a story—”

“A story based on true events,” Jane said, taking the tool from her mouth.

“And told us there was a ghost downstairs and she didn’t like to be disturbed.”

“She?” Alysha quirked an eyebrow. “Did he say anything else about her? What true events?”

“There was a woman named Emma Jean who was shot by her sister at the turn of the century—”

“Allegedly,” Darcy reminded.

“In this building?” Alysha asked, eyes wide.

“No,” Darcy answered. “Not in this building.”

Jane rolled her eyes. “ _Yes,_ in this building,” she insisted. “It just wasn’t split up into five storefronts. It was all one house.”

“Why did her sister shoot her?”

Darcy’s head fell backward. “She’s not haunting our basement; it doesn’t matter.”

“They were fighting over a guy, I think,” Jane said as if Darcy hadn’t spoken. “Or their father’s money? Anyway, doesn’t matter. Her sister shot her, and Dad told us she buried her in the basement and told everyone she ran away. They didn’t find her body until the fifties, when they ripped all this up and divided it again.” There was a sparkle in her eye now that reminded Darcy too much of when they were little. She looked past the light she’d nearly fixed and hooked Alysha with a seriously look. “And when she hears young women down in her basement, she thinks it’s her sister and she starts rattling around, trying to get to her—to get her revenge.”

“That’s horrifying!” Alysha exclaimed, eyes the size of dinner plates. She pulled her feet up onto the counter and hugged her knees.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Darcy sighed. “But can you _not_ tell her ghost stories?” she asked her cousin.

“Why would your dad tell you something like that?” Alysha demanded.

“Because he didn’t want us playing down there,” Darcy repeated. “Emma Jean is a made-up story based off a sad headline and shitty old pipes that have long since been replaced.”

“So, what did Jane see?” Alysha asked, not lowering her knees from their tight hug to her chest. “If you say it’s not real and she says it is,” she turned her attention back to the petite woman screwing in a new, energy efficient bulb on the pendant light she’d just reassembled, “what did you see to make you think so?”

Jane got down from where she’d been standing on the glass case in her socks and slipped back into her shoes. Darcy watched as she glanced from her to Alysha and bit her lip guiltily. She opened her mouth and closed it again. “It…doesn’t matter,” she said after a moment’s pause. “If you haven’t seen anything, I’m sure Emma Jean isn’t after you.”

Darcy sighed with relief that Jane had stopped there and shook her head at the apologetic look her cousin shot her as Alysha slid down from the counter. “Help me put tomorrow’s tarts away,” she asked, motioning them back to the kitchen where the end of day prep was still waiting to be finished. “What was the unrelated question number two?” she asked as Jane began packing up her little tool kit.

“Oh,” Alysha shook her head, clearing it visibly of the morbid thoughts of Emma Jean and her vengeful spirit. “Right. Have you ever had sex in the shop?”

Grateful she hadn’t yet picked up the tray of chocolate raspberry tarts in front of her, Darcy let out a sharp laugh of surprise. “Uh, no?” she said and went to prop open the prep fridge. “Why?” she asked, suddenly aware of a concern she’d never considered. “Have you?”

“Oh, God,” Alysha shook her head. “No, of course not! I could never do that to you! Are you kidding? I couldn’t live with the guilt.”

“Why are you asking?” Jane asked curiously, helping herself to a thumbprint cookie on the top of the box of day-olds for the shelter.

“I heard a statistic that like, fifteen percent of people admitted to having had sex at their place of employment and I’ve been polling everyone all week.”

Darcy thought about it. “That sounds like something office people do,” she decided out loud. “I mean, I’ve never worked in an office, but it seems like something that could go on there.” She glanced at Jane again. “You work in a lab.”

Jane nodded and swallowed her stale cookie thickly. “I do,” she agreed. “And trust me, nobody’s having sex there.” 

“I mean, if anyone here _should_ have admitted to having sex at the shop,” Alysha motioned to her boss. “It should be you, Darce.”

“Why?” Darcy asked with a laugh as Alysha passed her the last tray and she shut the door of the refrigerator before the temperature alarm went off.

“Because it’s your store,” Jane agreed. “If anyone else did it, it’d be gross and disrespectful.”

“But this is practically like your own kitchen,” Alysha added. “You’ve seriously never done it?”

“I’ve…never even _thought_ about it,” she admitted, surprising herself with the realization. “Have you asked everyone who works here this question?” Darcy asked seriously.

Alysha nodded. “Don’t worry, we’re all either super vanilla people who only have sex at home, in bed, where you’re supposed to,” Jane snorted another laugh as Alysha continued, “and/or not having sex at all, which seemed to be the more staggering ratio of my fellow co-workers.”

“Speaking of,” Darcy looked at her watch, “don’t you have a third date with Officer Wilson any minute now?”

“Shit!” Alysha grabbed her backpack and made a mad dash for the bathroom.

Jane leaned against the prep table, a grain of crushed walnut clung to the corner of her mouth. “Do you have Thanksgiving plans?” she asked without segue way.

It was Darcy’s turn to open her mouth and close it again before her answer fully formed. “I…don’t know,” she admitted. “Steve and I haven’t talked about it. Why? What are you doing?”

Her cousin sighed. “The kitchen remodel at Mom’s isn’t going to be done by Thanksgiving. And now Grams said _she_ wants to host dinner because Cousin Shirley is supposed to be coming down from Harrisburg on her way to Florida for the winter.”

Darcy’s nose wrinkled a second time. “Are you saying Thanksgiving’s in Bayonne?”

“I’m saying Thanksgiving’s in Bayonne.”

They sighed together. “But there’s nothing to _do_ in Bayonne,” Darcy whined like she was thirteen again. “And Cousin Shirley’s so mean and she _still_ smokes three packs of cigarettes a day.”

“The alternative is either you or I host and I’m already putting a firm checkmark in the _No_ column.”

“I don’t want to cook for that many people,” Darcy decided. “And I honestly don’t want Cousin Shirley in my house, making everything smell like an ashtray while she asks why all the silverware doesn’t match and if the church knows that Steve and I are living in sin.”

Jane snorted and bounced her narrow shoulders. “Let me know if you want to plan some kind of early exit strategy.”

“Let me talk to Steve about it,” she said finally. “I really haven’t even thought about how we’re going to merge holidays this year.”

Her companion stretched her hands high over her head and yawned without bothering to cover her mouth. “One more benefit to having a husband whose entire family still lives in Norway.”

“And very limited messy in-law interaction,” Darcy added with a smile.

“Precisely!” Jane grinned back. “Does his father still hate me for keeping his pride and joy on the other side of the Atlantic?” She shrugged.

“Doesn’t matter!” Darcy answered. “He’s in Norway! Is his little brother still a sociopathic drama queen who almost ruined your wedding?”

Jane shrugged again. “He’s in Norway! Who cares?”

“Who cares about what?”

They turned to see Alysha standing in the doorway of the kitchen, her backpack in one hand and a pair of spike heels in the other. She’d changed into a pair of black distressed jeans and a fitted camel sweater over a blousy white top. She bit her lip and held out her full hands. “This look okay?”

“You look hot,” Jane said bluntly.

Alysha stood up straighter. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Darcy agreed and beckoned her over. “Come here, let me tame your hair a little more.”

She wet her hands in the sink and raked them through Alysha’s thick, kinky hair, smoothing down the crease from where she’d had it up in a bun all day.

“Should I do more eyes?”

Jane shook her head. “No, that minimalist thing is working for you,” she said seriously. “Just gloss up your lips and you’re good to go.”

Darcy twisted a few of Alysha’s curls back into shape and patted her shoulders. “You’re a knockout. Sam’s a lucky guy.”

The youngest of the three women grinned and let out a little squeal of excitement. “He’s so nice,” she said in a loud whisper. “I’m trying so hard not to screw up.”

Darcy gave Alysha’s cheek a light, loving pinch. “There’s nothing to screw up, honey. Just have fun.”

She checked her watch again and gave another spasm of nerves before she forced her feet into her heels. “Okay,” she took another deep breath. “I’m gonna go. Do I smell like butter?”

Jane frowned and leaned forward to inhale. “Not that I can tell.”

Darcy gave her a light push toward the door. “You smell good, you look good. Go rock his world.”

Alysha scampered toward the door before she stopped, her hand on the handle and looked back. “Hey, if all goes according to plan, can I drown you in second-hand smut tomorrow?”

Darcy laughed. “I expect nothing less, Leash.”

The bells above the door let out a jarring jingle as Alysha pulled it shut on her way out. Darcy turned her attention back to her cousin. “And I swear to God, if you ever tell Charlotte about Emma Jean—”

“I would never!” Jane exclaimed, scandalized. “I wouldn’t have brought it up tonight if I had any idea a twenty-seven-year-old woman would be so easy to scare,” she added with a shake of her head. “But you have to admit,” she said with a small smile, “it’s a pretty good ghost story.”

Darcy rolled her eyes. “It’s only good because you actually believe it.”

“You lie to yourself all you want, Darce,” Jane sighed and straightened up. “But I know you saw her too.”

“I’m pretty sure I just went along with whatever you said because I idolized you and wanted to make sure everyone believed you.”

“Do you need any help with clean-up?” Jane asked, glancing around the kitchen before she checked her watch and frowned. “Actually, I have to retract that offer. I have a date with Ursa Minor in twenty minutes.”

“Don’t worry,” Darcy offered a smile. “I’ll just ask Emma to help me.”

Jane pointed a finger at her cousin. “Don’t joke about that,” she warned. “You’ll piss her off.”

“Good night, you lunatic,” Darcy said patiently while Jane gathered her things. “I love you.”

Jane leaned in and kissed her cheek before she headed out of the kitchen. “Love you too. Let me know about Thanksgiving.”

“Will do,” she called after her before the door slammed shut for the second time that night. Darcy let her breath leave her in an affectionately exasperated sigh and took quick mental stock of everything that needed to be done before she could head home for the night.

 

She heard the first noise a half an hour later. From her office, with the music on, it was just barely audible. She would have missed it entirely if it hadn’t been for the pause between songs. But it was only a brief, undefined sound and Darcy was able to dismiss it in seconds.

The next time she heard it was twenty minutes later as she was doing the final count of the safe.

Her thumb tapped the pause button and she tilted her head to one side.

No, she told herself, she _definitely_ heard something that time.

A low, muffled sound.

Almost…

She squinted and craned her neck further.

Darcy scoffed and shook her head. She’d almost been about to think that it sounded like a moan or a stifled sob. “But that would be crazy, Darcy,” she said out loud and turned back to her computer to enter in the day’s numbers.

She forced herself to concentrate on her accounting and not listen for anymore errant noises while she finished up her close. It wasn’t until she was just about finished and getting ready to head out that she stopped again and groaned.

In all their talk about ghosts and workplace sexcapades, Alysha had forgotten to take her boxes of cups and lids back downstairs before she left. Darcy sighed and picked up the first of the large boxes and turned to take them to the basement.

She stopped a second time.

This time, the hair on the back of her neck stood up and she felt like she’d just swallowed an ice cube whole.

The basement door was open.

She set the box back on the prep table and cleared her throat. “Jane?” she called, willing her voice to be steady. “Jane, this seriously isn’t funny.”

No answer.

“Okay,” she forced a laugh. “You got me,” she called into the silent café. “But come out now and I won’t tell your mother that you have Thor’s name tattooed on your ass.”

Still nothing.

Darcy cautiously approached the open basement door and placed a hand on the knob. It was cold. Was it always cold? Was this colder than usual? She couldn’t remember. She took another deep breath and let it out. “You’re being ridiculous,” she told herself.

She went to shut it all the way when she heard it again.

A low, sorrowful groan, coming from the darkened bottom of the basement stairs.

Abandoning all sense of calm, Darcy slammed the door and twisted the lock in place.

Steve answered on the third ring. “What’s up?”

“What are you doing right now?” she asked without preamble.

“Uh…I just dropped Charlotte off at dance. I was going to grab some dinner if you’re still working late.” He paused. “Everything okay?”

In the kitchen, with her back to the wall and her eyes not leaving the basement door, Darcy covered her face with her hand and sighed in defeat. “I…feel like such an idiot,” she stated. “But…could you…” She stopped and shook her head. “Never mind, it’s fine. I’ll just…see you at home.”

Steve’s furrowed brow of confusion was almost audible. “What’s going on?”

She groaned and looked at the boxes again. If she didn’t get them back downstairs tonight, Alysha would see them in the morning and be vindicated in her belief that the basement was haunted. “Uh…it’s so dumb,” she admitted. “But…do you… _thinkyoucouldcometotheshop_?” Face still scrunched in shame, she forced herself to slow down and explain. “I…heard something. Down in the basement. And…I’m…sitting here scaring myself and I feel like an idiot for asking but—”

“I’m only a few blocks away, Darce,” Steve assured her, a smile in his voice. “I’ll be there in a minute.”

She let him in with pink cheeks and slumped shoulders. “I can’t believe I had to ask you to do this,” she chided herself. “It’s all Jane and Alysha’s fault,” she added quickly. “I’ve never been scared for a _second_ in this place until they started talking about the ghost in the basement.”

Steve grinned and kissed her forehead. “Happy to help,” he said, taking off his baseball cap and tossing it on the counter next to her purse. “Charlotte hasn’t asked me to check for monsters in her closet for years. This is kind of refreshing.”

Darcy rolled her eyes and followed him back to the kitchen. She pointed to the door in question. “If there is a ghost—and there definitely _isn’t_ —her name is Emma Jean.”

“Emma Jean,” Steve repeated, still looking amused. He took a deep breath and rubbed his hands together. “Alright, let’s do this.” He unlocked the basement door and pulled it open, staring into the darkness. “Goddamn,” he commented. “It’s freezing down there. Where’s the light switch?”

“At the bottom of the stairs,” she groused.

Steve looked over his shoulder in mild horror. “What kind of Steven King shit is that?” He turned back to the stairs and extended a hand back to her. When she didn’t take it, he looked back again with another half-smile. “Come on,” he beckoned patiently. “I’m not facing your fears alone.”

With an unpleasant weight in the pit of her stomach, Darcy forced herself away from the counter and slipped her hand into his. She held her phone as an additional light source as they descended the staircase together. His free hand slid along the wall until it reached the cracked switch plate at the foot of the stairs and he forced the switch upward.

The long, skinny basement, full of dry goods and paper products, stretched out to their left, bathed in yellow light from the series of overhead bulbs. Steve glanced back at her and raised his eyebrows. “I don’t hear—”

They froze as another long, low and mournful sound floated towards them. Darcy tightened her grip on his palm. “You heard that, right?”

“Yeah,” he said softly, a little less amused than he’d been at the top of the stairs. He cleared his throat and, to Darcy’s dismay, started walking toward the furthest wall from where the sound had originated. “Emma?” he asked, a little louder. “You scaring my girl?” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and she shuffled behind him.

She watched his face as they made their way along the gallery, getting closer to where the sound had last come from. Darcy tried desperately to keep her mind in the present and not feel like she was six years old again, creeping behind Jane on a double-dare, convincing herself she didn’t see anyone hiding in the shadows. Her other hand landed on Steve’s arm. “We could just go—”

“Hang on,” he said, head cocked toward the wall.

“Steve...” she whined softly when he tugged her hand and inched closer to the last shelf. If Emma Jean existed, Darcy had to admit to herself, that’s where she’d be. That was where she and Jane had sworn they caught a glimpse of her as children. Where Jane, for all her analytical genius, still refused to go, almost thirty years later. “Just—”

His palm flattened against the cold, concrete as a test for a second before he pressed his ear to the wall. Darcy’s stomach dropped as Steve’s eyes widened in fear. “Oh my God,” he whispered, tightening his grip on her fingers.

“What?” she demanded, seconds away from dragging him back upstairs to safety and admitting defeat to Jane and Alysha in the morning.

“It’s...” Steve’s face split into a grin and he pulled away from the wall, “the subway, Darcy.”

“What?”

“C’mere,” he pulled her over to swap places with him and motioned for her to place her ear against the wall. Sure enough, in the distance, she could hear the low rumble and moan of the nearby train. A sound she could tell would be louder as it drew closer. “You probably don’t hear it because you’re upstairs most of the time.”

The fear and apprehension left her in a whoosh and she pushed herself away from the wall to deliver a smack to Steve’s bicep as he tried his hardest not to laugh. “Not funny,” she insisted as her cheeks heated up. “Not funny at all.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, trying to stifle his chuckles. “I’m sorry, you’re right, it’s not funny. But it’s a good thing, right? Nothing scary.” He looked up, inspecting the seams where the wall met the ceiling. “I’m guessing you’ve got a crack you can’t see somewhere around here--which is probably why it’s so cold.”

Still fighting the battle between her relief and embarrassment, Darcy sagged against the cold concrete again and set a hand to her heart. “Okay, well just for this, Alysha’s fired and Jane’s never getting another Christmas present.”

“Come on,” Steve laughed and pulled her away from the wall and into a hug. “We could’ve been murdered by a ghost or...wait,” he pulled back. “Were we in any kind of real danger or is Emma Jean supposed to be a friendly ghost?”

Darcy wasn’t sure it was possible to blush deeper. “No,” she grumbled. “She’s...” she covered her face and leaned her forehead against Steve’s chest. “Looking for revenge on her sister who murdered her and hid her body down here.”

He pulled away, hands still laced at the small of her back and looked concerned. “That story cannot possibly be true.”

“I didn’t—” she rolled her eyes. “ _I_ haven’t believed it since I was a little kid but then I was all alone and I heard these stupid noises I don’t usually hear and...” she dropped her face back to his chest. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore!”

Steve laughed again and took her hands in his. He raised them to his lips and kissed her knuckles. “I’m not teasing you,” he promised. “Basements are scary.”

He let her walk ahead of him up the stairs and took the boxes Alysha had forgotten back down to the shelves while Darcy finished wiping down the counters and handles of the refrigerators. She hopped up onto the prep table and swung her legs back and forth as he came up the stairs and shut the door behind him. “Can you lock it, please?” she asked before her teeth sank into her bottom lip. “Y’know, just in case.”

“Sure,” Steve smiled and stepped to the side before turning back so she could watch him give the lock a very pronounced turn. “Anything else?”

She smiled and shook her head. “I’d take a kiss if you’re offering,” she said with a bounce of her shoulders.

He crossed to stand in front of her and placed a hand on either side of her hips. “I was wondering when we were going to discuss my fee,” he said with a smirk.

Darcy raised her eyebrows. “I thought knights in shining armor rescued damsels for the thrill of adventure and out of the goodness of their hearts.”

Steve sucked a regretful inhale through his teeth. “Yeah, well, we had to renegotiate our contracts recently and the overhead to keep this whole operation is just—” he let out a low whistle and shook his head. “Boss told us we had to start charging.”

She laughed and brought her arms to rest on his shoulder, clasping her hands behind his neck. “You’re outta luck, I’m afraid,” she said with a glance around the empty shop. “I’ve already locked up my safe and taken my deposits for the night. I’m fresh outta petty cash.”

“Well, maybe we can work something out,” he said and closed the distance between them to seal his lips to hers. “Under the table,” he added before he kissed her again.

Darcy smiled against his mouth. “I’d prefer on top of it,” she said, her voice just above a whisper as she dared herself not to chicken out of acting on the desire that had flown through her mind the minute Steve had invaded her space.

He pulled back and offered a shy smile, the kind that told her he was trying not to get his hopes up. “Did you lure me down here just for a booty call?” he asked, letting his hands drift from the table to her hips.

The sight of that smile and the hope behind it gave Darcy’s sudden urge the extra kick it needed. “Oh no,” she assured him, squeezing her knees against his hips. “I was genuinely freaked out.” She leaned in and brushed her nose to his. “But you took such good care of me,” she dropped a quick, teasing kiss on his lips. “And kept me so safe,” another kiss. “Maybe I want to say thank you.”

Steve’s throat bobbed with a hard swallow before he ran his hands from her hips to flatten against the small of her back. He pulled her closer, sliding her forward. “I’ll always keep you safe, Darcy.”

“I know,” she said softly and slipped her hands under his t-shirt, gently scratching her nails over his skin. His lips met hers again in a long, slow kiss that chased any lingering fears straight from her mind and had her melting under his touch. She shifted closer to the edge of the table, trying not to break their kiss before she’d wriggled free enough space to hop down.

Steve looked surprised as they broke apart and she turned them around, so it was his back against the table. “Are you sure no one else is here?” he asked, watching Darcy deftly pop the button at the top of his jeans. “No one’s going to randomly stop by?”

“Nobody’s going to stop by,” Darcy assured him, keeping her eyes on his as she dropped slowly to her knees. “And there’s nobody here but us.”

If any of the neighbors complained about the noise, she decided as Steve’s fingers sank into her hair, she could always blame it on the ghost.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you think! 
> 
> Share the love on Tumblr @idontgettechnology and check out ishipitpod.com for more fanfic fun
> 
> *blows kisses*


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